


Jinyoung Approved

by princesszaf



Category: GOT7
Genre: 15& jimin tho because she's my babe, M/M, Multi, the fic's predominantly jj project and markson i guess but expect side ships too!!, very obviously emma inspired duh, won't mention bc spoiler alert ohohoho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3214526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesszaf/pseuds/princesszaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where a 21 year old Jinyoung is a relationship mediating extraordinaire by profession, conjuring love matches to last decades as he goes, and Jaebum's just his grudging accountant of a best friend who enjoys Jinyoung's shenanigans more than he should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jinyoung Approved

**Author's Note:**

> very obviously jane austen's emma-inspired!!! and many many thanks to emma approved @ youtube for motivating me to write this fic bc if there's one thing i fucking adore, it's my ultimate otp giving me reasons to write a got7 fic c:

 

Inseparable.

If there was one word and only one word that had to describe his relationship with Jinyoung, Jaebum would promptly reply with _inseparable_. It felt wholly encompassing, a good analysis of sixteen years and sixty more to come and he’s hardly insecure in his (or Jinyoung’s) ability to keep this relationship going.

And this is how it began – the second day of fourth grade starred a flustered Jinyoung with an awful bowl cut and two equally awful pop quizzes. Jinyoung couldn’t multiply and divide to save his life, Jaebum didn’t have a poetic bone in his body – being desk partners allowed for convenient bonding under pressing circumstances, cheating being a catalyst in their already promising companionship. That’s how Jaebum sees it anyway and he’s a practical man. Jinyoung and him…a relationship like that’s destined. Written in the stars. Put it in whichever hashed metaphor you can think of – they were just meant to be, end of story.

So much for emphasized practicality.

There’s nothing romantic about their dynamic – at least not yet – and they’ve been partners unbeatable since fourth grade, Jaebum reluctantly following Jinyoung’s ridiculous plans because you really can’t argue with someone who made melodramatic plans of action sound so logical. And there’s something magical about Jinyoung anyway, an inexhaustible spark of sorts, the rest of the world his hypnotized moths.

Was Jaebum mildly dependent on Jinyoung? Perhaps. But Jinyoung was as much his as he was Jinyoung’s. Friendships like this stumble across only once a lifetime and Jaebum’s a bit too sentimental to allow disinterest to take over.

Jaebum arrives at Jinyoung’s desk at 9:52am with two coffees – his steaming bitter black and Jinyoung’s over sweetened caramel machiatto – and isn’t surprised to see…well, an absent Jinyoung.  With a heavy sigh, he sorts a few documents on Jinyoung’s desk, just straightening a mess Jinyoung wouldn’t particularly miss, arranging the expensive office stationery according to colour and purpose, wiping away a smidge of dust from Jinyoung’s computer screen. He smiles to himself, quite indulgent and nerves at ease and is taking the first sip of his coffee (first at the office, second of his day) when Jinyoung trips in, hair in a disarray and socks mismatched.

But he’s grinning like a besotted school girl and Jaebum is only slightly suspicious.

“You’re late,” he states mildly, matter of factly

 _”Yes,_ Jaebum, thank you for being my own personal clock,” the reply is dramatic with a bit of gesticulation and a pointed look at Jaebum that reads _I hope you know I’m just pulling your leg_.

He understands, but frowns all the same, gesturing towards Jinyoung’s hair, his socks - was that an untucked shirt? ”You’re always late – don’t look so offended, you know it’s true – but you’re never… - Jinyoung, what...what's that _smell_?

It takes Jaebum a few prolonged seconds to read Jinyoung’s insinuation, cheekily raised brows paired with the most audacious smirk in history. Jaebum feels colour rushing to his cheeks _\- he’s a darn adult, god damn it -_ and he’s averting his gaze, fixing it on anything but Jinyoung.

Jaebum clears his throat. ”You’re disgusting,” he manages, voice lacking any real malice.

”And you’re jealous and need to get laid,” responds Jinyoung with ease, those Peter Pan eyes glinting with the sort of mischief he’s made his trademark,and smacks Jaebum lightly on the butt before slipping into his chair.

So their day begins, with numerous phone calls streaming in and consultations booked for the ever busy Jinyoung (along with some flirtatious fraternizing with the boss’ children, of course – fraternal twins, both glorious specimens of human reproduction) while Jaebum sits two desks away with numbers, Belle and Sebastian at a respectable volume and a constant flow of caffeine being his only companions. The flounce of his accounting pales starkly in comparison to Jinyoung’s relationship mediation but Jaebum has never really been _trifled_ by the lack of glamour, really. He’s always enjoyed the security of finances, its predictable and comforting nature and getting a glimpse of his favourite person in the world every couple of minutes or so was appreciated too.

Confessing to people that he, practically Grumpy Cat by profession Im Jaebum, worked for Hello Cupid always did garner strange looks. The social media application had been taking the dating portal by storm, a revolution they say, one of its kind that focused more on bringing life partners together instead of being the third party to superficial hookups. Tt even offered event management services to its customers (only the Platinum ones, of course) in the event of some mind-blowingly successful matchmaking.

And in Jinyoung’s case, it was _always_ mind-blowingly successful. Twenty one hits, no misses and he’s the godfather to five kids already, Jaebum proud of his best friend. Jinyoung's…a little too proud of himself, what with constantly bringing it up in casual conversation and branding himself as the company’s most skilled matchmaker (which he was, admittedly). He's plastered an obnoxiously loud banner for himself all over his cubicle’s wall, practising hypothetical Academy Award receiving speeches for the glory that was to be inevitably is.

Jaebum’s reminded him on multiple occasions that those were…not really what the Oscars were for but Jinyoung’s always conveniently turned a deaf ear.

It’s five in the evening and a painfully shrill screech drives Jaebum out of his indulgent reverie and back to reality. He’s dazed and confused as he tugs off his headphones and hunts for the source (Jinyoung, surely), rises from his desk and peers around Jinyoung’s cubicle to find him on the floor. He's clutching onto his phone with all his life, cheeks flushed like he’s had the best orgasm of his life and Jaebum nervously straightens his tie at that comparison, promptly clears his throat because um, what. “Jinyoung-ah…” starts Jaebum, a bit concerned and frowns at the crowd gathered around Jinyoung’s desk. So much for being Hello Cupid’s crowning glory. “Are you okay-“

”I was right,” and Jaebum’s prompty cut off, Jinyoung slightly breathless as he musters the words with saucer-like wide eyes, ”I was fucking right all along…”

”You’re going to be a tad more specific.”

Jaebum watches Jinyoung with his frown deepening, patiently awaiting an explanation and his own eyes widen as Jinyoung clambers up from his spot on the floor and slowly makes his way towards Jaebum like they’re the only two people in the room - the twenty pairs of eyes glued to his back were like, indoor plants or something. Jinyoung slowly looks like he’s happy enough to cry and his hands come to find Jaebum’s shoulders.

Jaebum’s shouting in surprise when he gets rocked back and forth like a weightless ragdoll and he can do absolutely _nothing_ about Jinyoung barreling into him and embracing him in the most spirited Carpe Diem manner possible before hysterically shouting, ”MARK AND JACKSON ARE GETTING MARRIED AND THIS IS ALL MY DOING AND I WAS RIGHT I WAS _FUCKING RIGHT_ PARK JINYOUNG NEVER FAILS LET’S TOAST TO MY VICTORY AND UNASSAILABLE SUCCESS ALL DRINKS ON JAEBUM!”

“Hey, what? Wait, _hold up_ \- Jinyoung – I did not consent to this! No drinks on me! Absolutely none!”

 

* * *

 

When Jaebum and Jinyoung were younger, slumber parties were devoted to devouring overly cheesy romantic comedies, some nights spent marathoning John Hughes’ works alone. Fourteen year old Jinyoung was successful in, what he believes to be, the most successful courtship in the whole wide universe – his older sister and Jaebum’s older brother, a relationship that was still going strong after seven years, strong enough to warrant a lavish wedding and two tolerable, if not entirely pestering children (Yijae was easy to handle when she wasn’t crying or pooping and all you needed to do to get Minhyuk to shut up was hand him an immeasurable supply of sugar – Jaebum was a fantastic uncle). Jinyoung was also astoundingly well versed in floriography, the Elizabethan language of flowers, for it was romantic and thoughtful despite being a cliché (he soon lost interest after Suji, his crush at the time, proved to be allergic to almost everything from pollen to kittens). Jinyoung’s always been very invested in the theory of romance, constantly holding his adeptness in the field above the rest of the world with no shame whatsoever, which is why Jaebum still vividly remembers the November of 2009 as Jinyoung hitting rock bottom from heartbreak that wasn’t even his own – he still views Jackson and Mark’s failed relationship as one of the most embarrassing occurrences in his professional history. No matter he was only sixteen – Jinyoung was far too proud in his abilities as a matchmaker to let mishaps slide.

That, and Mark and Jackson would’ve made the cutest adopted babies in the world.

(Only last week had Jaebum tried to comfort Jinyoung with pictures of Mark and Jackson enjoying the purely platonic BFFs life – they wouldn’t have met each other if it hadn’t been for Jinyoung, he’d said! – but alas, it was in vain.)

Or it had _seemed_ to be in vain anyway - Jinyoung’s beaming with pride now, 40% for Mark and Jackson and a purely modest 60% for himself because _hell yes,_ he was a genius who deserved to be amongst the leagues of Dalai Lama and Mahatma Gandhi and Albert Einstein.

Foolproof. That’s what his predictions were. Entirely foolproof.

Much to Jaebum’s discontent, he gets unceremoniously dragged along to Jinyoung’s lunch date with Mark and Jackson. Jaebum hardly has any issues with them – they’re two of his closest friends, actually – but he’s got a buttload of paperwork to go through and he’s nothing if not pedantically responsible. He’s excited though, despite being a Grade A sourpuss and when the couple stumbles into the restaurant, Jaebum’s the first to envelop them in a tight hug, expression wildly giddy. He pulls back to see Jinyoung viewing him with a mixture of bemusement and wonder but nothing even a bit unpleasant.

Mark and Jaebum conveniently let Jackson and Jinyoung dominate bulk of the conversation, swapping pleasantries for the first ten minutes. Jaebum’s poking a toothpick in a kebab when Jinyoung _finally_ unleashes the million dollar question and he cough-laughs into his napkin because Jinyoung’s question sounds so rehearsed and hurried and unabashedly prying and really, his best friend literally has no chill.

It’s Mark who replies and it’s Mark who’s searching for Jackson’s hand and intertwining it with his, the pad of his thumb brushing Jackson’s hand. Jaebum catches himself instinctively looking over at Jinyoung and his heart’s doing this indescribable flippity floppity thing that he finds arduous to contain. ”How did it happen… _well_ ,” Mark’s always been slow and thoughtful with his words, deliberating them over and over in his head but Jaebum guesses this is worth the wait. ”It was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” Jinyoung’s hand presses Jaebum’s thigh tightly under the table and he resists the urge to wince in pain, sternly slapping the hand away. ”I’ve never not loved Jackson, however romantic or not the manifestation may have been. Proposing seemed natural, like the next step.” Jaebum is not blushing. Jaebum is not clearing his throat. Jaebum’s thigh is not tingling from the aftermath of Jinyoung’s scorching touch. ”I’ve always known that life without Jackson in it is entirely unthinkable – and seriously, Jinyoung, if it weren’t for you –“

”All praise King Jinyoung, really!” Jackson chimes in, gravely saluting Jinyoung with a friendly wink. His expression softens though and his voice attains a dreamy note Jaebum’s not entirely accustomed to. “Being with Mark feels…just right.”

Mark turns to Jackson and Jackson turns to Mark and the intimacy they share with just an exchange of glances is so sincere, so chaste, that Jaebum politely tears his gaze away. Moments like this don’t require the physicality of kisses, almost sacred is the bond of affection. Jaebum turns to Jinyoung instinctively, expecting see Jinyoung in an internal wave of grandiose self praise or at least staring gooey eyed at the couple.

What he doesn’t expect at all is to find Jinyoung looking at him, something foreign in his gaze and Jaebum has to remind himself to breathe.

 

* * *

 

Jaebum’s just about to take the first bite of his pizza when incessant hammering resounds on his door, a groan so loud and angst ridden that it could only really belong to one person. This stirs a sleeping Nora from her place at Jaebum’s feet, uncoiling herself lazily only to throw a dirty look at Jaebum like, Jinyoung is all your fault, before disappearing into his bedroom for some actual peace and quiet.

He sighs heavily, not bothering to move from his cozy place by the air conditioner with reruns of his favourite American sitcom playing, counts the seconds it takes for his door to unlock and Jinyoung to come barging through like it was his house.

To be fair, Jinyoung owned a pair of keys to Jaebum’s flat so the house might as well be his too. Jaebum’s spare room has ‘Jinyoung’ written all over it, from the messy scatter of literary fiction and hair product on the dressing table to the oversized jumpers and brogues sitting cozily in the almirah, and Jaebum…likes the arrangement, funnily enough, despite liking the idea of his own unbothered lair too.

Lair. Personal space. Whatever. He calls it his lair because he’s a dork like that.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

And always one to state the obvious, Jaebum says, “You are unhappy about something.”

"No shit," came the reply but without any real bite, "And what are you eating pizza for, anyway? Aren’t you like, severely lactose intolerant? Naughty Jaebum."

Jaebum tries to be subtle about uncomfortably shifting in his seat, hoping that the dim lighting in his living room would hide the flush creeping up his neck. There’s nothing to enjoy about Jinyoung calling him naughty. Like, at all. “Allergic to milk,” he corrects.

"There’s a difference? Stop being so pedantic. It’s not cute," though something about Jinyoung’s affectionate smile suggests otherwise. He playfully whacks the side of Jaebum’s head before diving in for a slice, loftily picking at and discarding the onions and bell peppers and olives.

"That’s not very healthy," frowns Jaebum, watching Jinyoung as he eats sloppily.

Jinyoung gives him a borderline flabbergasted look and stares pointedly at the pizza. “You are allergic to milk.” Turns his pointed gaze to Jaebum, speaking as if to a child. “Pizza has cheese, Jaebummie, which has milk.” Gives Jaebum the most judgmental grimace in the world, throwing up his hands in the air in mock conciliation. “I’d pegged you for a lot of things, Im Jaebum but a _hypocrite_?” So…so grieved. “I had not.”

Jaebum rolls his eyes and resists the urge to ask Jinyoung what exactly he’d been pegged for but that’s like dangling meat in front of a starving tiger and no one wants that. “Dickhead. What did you come here for, anyway? You were groaning very dramatically only minutes ago. Play it up, Jinyoung-ah.”

As retribution, Jinyoung steals another slice and a sip of Jaebum’s cola. He does, indeed, resume to play it up. “So, you know I’ve offered my services to Mark and Jackson for what’s about to be the most glorious wedding in history - their engagement party too - and I was going through the guest list and guess who’s name I came across.”

"Uh…" Jaebum hasn’t ever been very good at this. "The Queen of England? I don’t know."

"No! - He might as well be the Queen on England though, the way people go on about him. Think, Jaebum."

And there’s only one person Jinyoung can muster that much unabashed pettiness towards, “…Choi Youngjae? I thought he was in Denmark or somewhere.”

"Denmark and Scotland _and_ Australia _and_ Japan _and_ Taiwan _and_ Egypt and fucking Jupiter if he could. Our _perfect_ little Youngjae-yah has been everywhere," retorts Jinyoung, doing little to hide the childishness in his voice, his scowl menacing.

"Someone sounds jealous."

Jinyoung sends Jaebum a look so withering that the latter’s all but retreating further into his seat. “Hardly,” he says coolly, folding his arms, “If I had someone advertising my exaggerated perfection the way Nichkhun hyung does for his ickle dongsaeng, I’d be a similar position.” He pauses for a drawn out sip from Jaebum’s coke, shrugging a bit too defensively as he continues, “And I don’t need that. I’m perfectly content with where I am and I don’t find reason to be jealous at all. Youngjae deserves his moment of glory.”

“I thought his moment of glory was beating you in our Literature finals,” piqued Jaebum, not really mulling his words over. He’s obviously struck a nerve because Jinyoung looks positively murderous and Jaebum’s decided that he’s lost his appetite. Dying tonight is not an option, so he’s quick to add, “But we’ve established that our teacher was a partial piece of shit who’d hated on you for unintentionally flirting with his niece so _this_ is definitely Youngjae’s moment of glory.” He doesn’t really know what ‘this’ he’s referring to - Youngjae’s moment of glory has been an extended one ever since Jaebum and Jinyoung have known him (that’s 6 th grade, when Youngjae’s family moved in across from Jinyoung’s). Personally, Jaebum likes Youngjae – he’s professional, appropriately humorous, diligent, a model citizen – and they still keep in touch whenever they can. He’s used to this though, used to Jinyoung’s barely contained hissy fits whenever Youngjae's name is brought up in conversation and he’s ready to all but throttle Nichkhun hyung into vocal submission.

Still, Jaebum wouldn’t really be Jaebum if he didn’t spout something sensible, so he places a helpful hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder and offers him a grimace of a smile. “Jinyoung, you’re letting him get to you and both of us know that you’re the worst version of yourself when you’re seething with anger.” And then he adds, words harsh but tone soft, “This isn’t your moment. It’s Mark’s and Jackson’s and as a friend, you’re obligated to put their interests before yours. Don’t mess it up over a silly high school grudge.”

“Of course.” He can see Jinyoung’s conflicted, emotions flickering across his face in rapid succession. The years have allowed Jaebum to decipher each screen with frightening accuracy and it's funny, how you grow to know another’s emotions better than your own. After a long silence, Jinyoung sighs and turns to Jaebum with a sheepish smile. “What would I do without you?”

“Nothing, probably,” and Jaebum does absolutely nothing to hide his smugness.

“You could be a little less self serving, you know.”

“Fat load of advice coming from _you_.”

“I _despise_ the insinuation.”

“Could I please resume my show, please? And Jinyoung-ah, feet off the table.”

“Oh, alright alright – Wait, what are Ross and Rachel fighting about _this_ time?”


End file.
